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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349946">Tring Thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_spies/pseuds/Northern_spies'>Northern_spies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Museums, Vacation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:41:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_spies/pseuds/Northern_spies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Crowley proposes a holiday, Aziraphale decides they're in need of visit to one of Britain's classic museums.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anna's Angels (and Demons)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tring Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Jordan, who requested a museum date in our exchange. I hope you enjoy this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Crowley had asked Aziraphale if he might like to take a little holiday, get out of the city, Tring wasn’t what he’d had in mind. No, his mind, thoroughly chilled by a damp English winter, had been drifting to bright beaches, warm sand, and the sort of fruity cocktails that would give him an excuse to drink tequila mid-day. Even before he’d proposed the idea he’d already mentally packed a suitcase featuring little beyond a swimsuit and a trashy beach read with an exceptionally lurid cover. The better to get a rise out of his husband, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next time, he’d lead with “I’ve booked us a week in Anguilla,” instead of tempting fate with a simple “fancy a holiday?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the damage was done and the angel had steered him off to Tring without even a moment for Crowley to offer a token protest. There was going to be the sort of fussy, historic bed and breakfast Aziraphale cooed over and a visit to the Natural History Museum. Crowley had not particularly liked what were now historic hotels when they had been modern hotels and taxidermy animals, with their unblinking eyes, made his skin crawl a little. At least he was able to drive. Some small comfort, reaching death-defying speeds on the old A41. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they approached the town Aziraphale reached an eager hand out to pat Crowley’s knee.  “You know, I’m terrifically excited. I’ve not been to the museum since they made it public. It’ll be absolutely thrilling to see what they’ve done with the place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never been at all,” said Crowley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, set it up during your long nap, didn’t they?” said Aziraphale. “Why, that’s even better. Your fresh eyes together with my discerning knowledge of the relevant history of the building. Possibly the optimal way to experience things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley was annoyed to find the enthusiasm endearing and even a little catching. Married life was making him soft, and perhaps happy Aziraphale was worth the thousand yard stare of a long dead thylacine. He parked the car, squared  his shoulders, took Aziraphale’s hand, and went to meet the collection.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now darling, even you have to admit this is fascinating,” said Aziraphale, gesturing to the Victorian-era glass cabinet separating them from the most recent round of glass-eyed terrors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Err,” said Crowley, leaning away slightly from the judgmental face of a creature labelled</span>
  <em>
    <span> prizzly bear</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Doesn’t seem right, preserving all these dead animals like this. I’m all for spooky but this is just, I dunno. Gross”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear. Is this terrifying puma-pard giving you the heebie-jeebies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heebie-jeebies?” Crowley scoffed. “Come on, angel, no one says heebie-jeebies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Creepy crawlies, then?” Aziraphale said, eyes twinkling. “Jimjams, spooky-wookies!” He brought his hands to Crowley’s waist and danced his fingers along the demon’s ribcage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley choked back a giggle. “Quiet, slang that outdated they’re bound to stuff you and place you on display with the other historical oddities.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale put his shoulders back and straightened his bowtie. “If you think that was an insult, dear, you’ve missed the mark. I’d be honored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley rolled his eyes and moved down the line to the jag-lion.  “Honor or not, I don’t get it angel. This doesn’t exactly seem like your scene. Aren’t you a bit more of a paintings and illuminated manuscripts type of museum patron?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale chuckled softly. “You’d be just as bored in a historic library,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a good art museum though,” Crowley countered. “Bit more to them, get to see what the humans have done through the ages. Decent coffee, even, at some of them. New York’s got, whatsit, The Met. Whole gallery of musical instruments throughout time. Bits of temples and whatnot too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “Perhaps next time. You know, I think they’ve got the remnants of the Temple of Dendur at that one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did know.” He stopped and reached for Aziraphale’s hand. “Did <em>you</em> know, I carved our names into the walls?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crowley, you’re not meant to deface historical artifacts!” Despite the indignation in his voice, Aziraphale was blushing lightly. Crowely loved this, playing just bad enough to make Aziraphale swoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t do it with all the 19th century wankers when they </span>
  <em>
    <span>rediscovered</span>
  </em>
  <span> it,” he said. “I was posing as a stonemason at the time it was built. We’re on one of the cartouches.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s blush deepened. “Oh, I suppose that’s alright,” he said, smiling fondly up at Crowley. “But, back to your previous point. I do ordinarily favor less </span>
  <em>
    <span>outdoorsy</span>
  </em>
  <span> museums,” he said, waving a hand at all the cabinets stuffed with taxidermied fauna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley detected just a note of a plan in his voice and shivered slightly with excitement. “Do you now? So, why Tring?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, my dear, no spoilers until we’re in the next room,” Aziraphale said. He tugged Crowley’s hand through a doorway and stopped in front of a large case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Birds?” said Crowley, as he looked around the room. “Plenty of birds back in London. Got your pigeons, your ducks, the odd magpie. Live ones, even.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not just any birds,” said Aziraphale. He winked at Crowley and dropped his voice. “An avian crime scene.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley couldn’t help the smile crawling across his face. His adorable bastard of a husband was definitely up to something. “Crime scene, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, there’s been a theft. Several of the birds meant for this very room, gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my understanding the stolen birds were sold on one of those Internet shops and, while they’ve recovered some, at least half are still missing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley paced along the cases. “eBay, probably eBay,” he said. “Do you know which ones are gone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I read it’s the duplicates for these four,” he gestured at a brightly colored display. “Plus, they’ve got a catalog somewhere with all the research specimens listed. It was mostly those.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we see the catalog?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, I suppose I might know where to find it. Why so interested?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley shrugged. “I’ve got some experience with using the Internet for demonic activity. Might have some luck, tracking a few down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale smiled smugly. “That would be good of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist. “Wait a moment, if that’s why you wanted to come here, then, this isn’t a vacation. It’s a good deed!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale wiggled with delight. “Yes. I’ve tricked you, you see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why? We could have been somewhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>sunny</span>
  </em>
  <span>, angel. I had plans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve just looked so bored lately, my dear.” Aziraphale shifted his wrist out of Crowley’s loose grip and laced their fingers together. “I thought you might do with a spot of enrichment. When you proposed a trip I thought ‘ah ha! Here’s my opportunity!’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley groaned. “So you dragged me to Tring to give me a rainy-day activity?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale pouted. “That’s not the only reason! There’s a tea shop I like here as well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley tipped his head back. Of course Aziraphale had chosen this dreadful place because he thought Crowley would like it. Of course it had worked. They were absolutely idiots in love. “Fine,” he said at last, fighting to keep the note of satisfaction out of his voice. “We can go get your tea. I’m looking at that catalog first, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course dear,” said Aziraphale, steering him into the next room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And since we agree this wasn’t a proper holiday, I’m planning the next one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale leaned against him. “Looking forward to it, darling.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There actually was a massive heist of birds from Tring. It's fascinating and absolutely a good opportunity for Aziraphale to play to Crowley's heroic, problem-solving fantasies. </p><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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